Crisis Core: Fallen
by kysis-the-bard
Summary: Sequel to "The Memory of Falling". Angels have the furthest to fall. How far will they go for personal salvation, hope, or love? SephirothxGenesis. Please R&R!
1. Prologue: Bitter

**Disclaimer: **I do not own CCFF7, Sephiroth, Genesis, Angeal, Zack, Hollander, Hojo, Loveless, etc. Square Enix does. I own the writing. There are quotes from Loveless in here, and the beginning is part of a specific scene from Crisis Core. However, the thoughts and such of Genesis are all of my conniving mind, and this links up directly with the epilogue of "The Memory of Falling".

**Warning:** Spoilers, dark themes, yaoi, established SephirothxGenesis, etc. This is bound to be darker than "The Memory of Falling". Just a warning.

**Author's Note:** This is a sequel to "The Memory of Falling", which was my first fanfic ever. One of my readers mentioned wanting to make a sequel, and I couldn't get the idea out of my head, so here you go. Blame Chaos. Seriously.

**Music:** yep, I still write to music. "A Changing Situation" –CCFF7

**FALLEN**

**Prologue: Bitter**

It might have looked like he was talking to the air. It might have looked like his face was upturned to the golden sky, basking in the radiance of a gorgeous Junon sunset. It might have looked like his eyes were hopefully on the horizon. Those pale blue optics were latched elsewhere, further down, latched on the docks where Hollander had just made a dangerous escape. The doctor had always not made it through.

Angeal would have been proud of his puppy.

Genesis let out a long sigh, its trembling as it passed his lips. It was like Angeal, to sacrifice himself like that. He should have seen it coming. All of the signs were there, and Genesis had been too absorbed in his own personal battle to see it, to feel it. Angeal had been off in his own little world for a while, not that Genesis was any better. Angeal was dead now. That was the difference. Angeal was the lucky one.

The Puppy backed away, pointing at something before walking off. That was when Sephiroth turned a wistful eye in his direction, like he knew Genesis was up there, atop the Junon canon. He could have just been reminiscing about that battle in the training room. Genesis rolled his shoulder. The wound had still not healed, despite all that time. He had a wing to consider now.

One wing. How worthless.

Hollander really was a failure.

Sephiroth turned his direction, Genesis wondering if those mako enhanced eyes could see him up there. A smile lightly touched his pale lips. For a second he ignored the pain of degradation, speaking to ears that might not be able to hear him. "_My friend, your desire/ Is the bringer of life, gift of the goddess_." Genesis lifted the Banora White apple out, as though offering it to Sephiroth. His eyes trained on the apple. He could not look at the General. "_Legend shall speak/ Of sacrifice at worlds end_."

When the General turned, as if to go, Genesis pulled the apple in, close to his heart. Sephiroth was leaving. "_The wind sails over the water's surface/ Quietly but surely._" He watched his dearest friend load onto a helicopter, the sleek black thing taking off. Genesis wanted to throw the dumbapple at him.

Sometimes, even the brilliant Sephiroth could be an idiot.

Sighing, Genesis looked down at his feet, and then closed his eyes. Would things have been different had he not jumped, not fallen? Genesis could still remember the feeling of it. The way his stomach felt pitted, the way air rushed past him, the way everything above him faded into nothingness. And the way the lifestream cushioned his landing. It had been like soft arms wrapping around him, lowering him the rest of the way.

From there, he had regained some strength, though not nearly enough. He woke up beneath Banora, in the caverns. There were a few options for him. Would Sephiroth help him, after everything? Genesis turned, striding quickly for the end of the canon. They were heading for Modeoheim, he could feel it. Would he meet them there?

It was a consideration.

Crouching, Genesis lunged into the air, one wing taking him frightfully high before he powered northward.

It was time to either mend bridges, or finish burning them down.


	2. Chapter I: Looking

**Disclaimer:** I do not own CCFF7, the characters, or Loveless. I own the writing and the yaoi. Crisis Core spoilers ahead. Sorry about that, but it is unavoidable at this point.

**Warnings:** Not in chronological order. yaoi, established SephirothxGenesis and LazardxTseng, spoilers for Crisis Core and for my other fanfic "Lying is a Dance for Two". If you do not like yaoi, this is definitely not the story for you. There may be language and alcohol and swearing. Not sure yet, but I should cover my ass either way.

**Author's Note:** This is finally getting off its feet. Please R&R. I hope I don't disappoint!!

**Music:** misc. music played at my work, and misc. music from CCFF7, and a few songs from Advent Children as well. "Dedicate (A Place for Me)" –VAST.

**CRISIS CORE: FALLEN**

**Chapter I: Looking**

"He made me… feel alive." The monotone voice was just a whisper, barely a breath, as though the words were not meant to be uttered. He looked away, silver hair cascading over his face, hiding his pained green eyes. There was nothing that could be done. Genesis was dead for all intensive purposes, even if Sephiroth could feel his presence now and then.

It was written all over Zack's face: he felt guilty for asking. It wasn't Zack's fault, not entirely at least. Sephiroth tried not to blame him. It was difficult. Sephiroth could read lips; _I'm sorry_ were the last two words to come from Genesis'. What for, though? Was if for leaving so suddenly, without explanation? Was it for jumping rather than surrendering? Was it for breaking his heart? Sephiroth felt as though he would never know.

The incessant tick of the clock filled the void of the room. Somehow that metallic drone was comforting, more so than the looks of pity he got from Tseng, and now Zack. Then again, Tseng was as bent out of shape as him, with the disappearance of Lazard. Sephiroth never would have guessed it, considering how much grief the couple had given him over Genesis.

"General," the cadet paused, perhaps in awe, perhaps to give Sephiroth a chance to look up before continuing, "President ShinRa requires your presence in the executive board room."

Slowly, like an uncoiling snake, Sephiroth stood. Though his strides were long and airy, there was a definite weight on his shoulders, an unbreakable gloom. He brushed past the messenger cadet, moving silently down the hall and into the glass elevator. It slid soundlessly upward without complaint. Soon enough he was there, body on auto-pilot to the board room.

The President was not the only man present, the heads of each department there, minus Lazard. None of them looked directly at him, the first sign that something was wrong. Only President ShinRa met his sad eyes and held that gaze, demanding acknowledgement. Sephiroth gave him none, seating himself and staring at the table. He wanted this to be over as quickly as possible.

"Welcome back, General."

"Hmph." Sephiroth crossed his arms over his chest, not looking up. The shorter hair around his face fell over it, though the strands did little to hide the tone of his mako green eyes. He wanted them to get on with it.

"Well…" The President stood from his chair at the head of the table, as though he actually had something important to say. Someday, he would kill him. Sephiroth knew it with a certainty, though he had no idea when, or how, or why. He just knew. For a second he closed his eyes, clearing that thought from his head quickly. It was not a good train of thoughts to be having at the moment. "There have been sightings of Hollander all over the world. We are not sure which ones can be trusted, or if he is just moving around that much. General, what were your findings at Modeoheim?"

Modeoheim. Sephiroth took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He had the urge to walk out. That would be very unlike him, or at least how he had been. Hojo was watching him closely now. Despite how much Sephiroth hated Hojo, he would not disobey the man who raised him. "Nothing." The one word answer was not entirely true, but it was all he would give them. Sephiroth stood suddenly, hands falling to his sides. He stood well above everyone at the table, more so since all but President ShinRa was sitting. "Is my presence further required?"

Reluctantly, President ShinRa dismissed him. Sephiroth turned and went immediately. He could hear quiet steps following him, and he paused just before he got to the elevator, spinning. The Turk did not look at all surprised. Sephiroth could feel the movement of everyone on that floor, could close his eyes and practically see them moving around. Was that normal? Then again, had he ever been normal? Sephiroth was beginning to wonder.

"Reno and Rude reported contrary you to."

"Is that so?" Sephiroth's eyes narrowed, glinting dangerously. He did not care that it was Tseng. The Turks knew too much about everything.

"You saw him, didn't you?"

"If I did, would I be _here_?" The answering question was snapped, came without thought even. It was true. Sephiroth was all too willing to forgive at this point in time, if it meant the pain would go away. If it wasn't bad enough that he lost his love not long ago, add on top of it that he lost his only friends. He was alone now in this harsh world. Though he had been alone before they came into his life, he had not known happiness and companionship to make it hurt. Now…

And yet, despite it all, he never wished that it had not happened.

"Was Lazard there?"

"Shouldn't your Turks know that, too?" Sephiroth turned, sliding his card with an angry swipe. He had not seen Lazard there, or any evidence of his passing through. There were some clones and empty warehouses that used to be laboratories. The thing he had wanted to see most— person, rather— was what had not been there, no matter how long and how hard he looked. Sephiroth could sense him there at times, but the redhead never made himself visible. It was beyond frustrating.

"Sephiroth—"

"It is General to you, _Turk_." Sephiroth stepped into the elevator, spinning. His long silver hair cascaded chaotically around him as he reached out, a black gloved finger pressing the close door button hard. The glass doors slid shut upon command, and he started descending into the heart of the ShinRa tower. Being so snide only dulled the pain for a little while, though. Soon it would all start aching again. A moment of respite was enough, though, Sephiroth closing his eyes and waiting.

The elevator came to a sudden stop, Sephiroth stepping off and walking down the hall. He stopped at the room that had been Genesis', going inside. It still smelled like him. He paused once the door had shut, taking a deep breath of that intoxicating aroma. The feathers he had collected sat lined up on the glass table in front of the couch, a little note with each. Sephiroth had chronicled when he found each feather, how. It was like a timeline to destruction.

Unbuckling the one done strap on his long trench, Sephiroth walked past the table, into the hallway on the side. The bedroom door was open. He had shut it. Quickly he darted inside, finding his only prized possession other than the masamune sitting on the floor, a vacant look in those blue eyes. The skin was turning grey. There were silver streaks through that beautiful copper hair.

"Cells…"

The voice was barely a whisper, Sephiroth's heart skipping a beat as he heard it speak for the first time. The copies could speak? Or… Sephiroth knelt quickly beside the sitting form, brushing his fingers across an ashen cheek. The copy looked up, blinking weakly before letting its head lull again.

"S… cells…"

"Genesis?" Sephiroth rubbed the red uniform covered shoulder. "What do you need?"

The copy spoke no more.

Sighing, Sephiroth collected it in his arms, putting it back on the bed, beneath the covers. He did not want to go far, not tonight. Slipping out of his long coat, Sephiroth climbed beneath the sheets, wrapping an arm around the clone, pulling it close. "I hope you found what you are looking for." The words were murmured against the copy's ear, and it gave nothing to show it understood, or that Genesis was paying attention on the other end.

So be it.

* * *

The copy was gone in the morning. The moment his eyes slid open he was awake, aware, as though it was just a switch and had been flipped. Green eyes scanned the bed, finding nothing. The place where the copy had been was already cold. It was like reliving a nightmare. Sephiroth sat up, gaze finding spots of black across part of the bed, the floor, leading out. Feathers.

Sephiroth got up slowly, pulling himself into pants, holding the front shut as he walked from the room. The feathers led out, through the front door of the apartment. He had not meant to sleep the entire night. Walking swiftly back into the bedroom, he donned his clothing, pushing his hair quickly into place as he went. The silver strands did as they were made to, staying in their usual arrangement. He did not care. Doing the buckle on his long jacket, Sephiroth walked out of the apartment, closing the door with a soft click.

It was still early enough that there were not many people out.

Following the feathers, he picked them up as he went, hiding them. He did not know why he did it. It was a compulsion. He never used to give in to such urges. Everything changed, something snapped in him, Sephiroth did not rightly know. It was just… different. And though Genesis was gone now, the catalyst for that change, everything did not go back to how it had been. It could not.

The feathers went into the elevator.

On a hunch, he pressed the button for the roof, elevator buzzing quickly upward, past the president's office to the very top. The wind was blowing, combative as it battered the roof. Sephiroth stepped out slowly, eyes narrowing as they instantly dried to the harsh breeze. The air was not so polluted up there, but he could still not see the sky.

A faded red coat was the first thing he saw. There was a gash on the back of it, where a black wing should be.

The wind carried a familiar scent on it, and his heart skipped a beat.

"Genesis?"

With a rustle, the form gracefully stood, turning in that same motion. The wing spread forth, grey and black feathers intermingled. Sephiroth could smell the death. Dull blue eyes locked with his. Those ashen lips whispered an apology, too quiet for even his ears to hear it. And he fell.

Sephiroth bolted upright in bed, eyes flaring wide. There was warmth beside him. His mako green eyes slowly adjusted to the pitch black of the room, the bedroom. He looked sharply over. The copy was still there.

It had just been a dream.

Sighing, Sephiroth let himself fall back on the bed. He was trembling, a thin glaze of sweat on his skin, cooling rapidly. His eyes found the clock across the room. It was three in the morning. He still had two hours of sleep left. Turning, he pulled the copy close again, burying his face in the fading copper hair, inhaling. It smelled nothing like that breeze had. It smelled nothing like Genesis.

Either way, the touch lulled him back into a fitful slumber.

* * *

It was more a matter of feeling than hearing. The silver haired General had never made much sound. He pressed his back against the metal cylinder, barely able to feel its frosty touch against his leather encased back. The open slit on his jacket was a different matter. He could feel the cold wafting through it, that short distance of air making all the difference. Still, he would not move. He could barely breathe. They were too close.

Hollander needed the rest of his equipment, and if Genesis was found, that would not happen. ShinRa would probably lock him up in a test tube and let him rot, let the degradation take control of his body until he was nothing but a dead and dried husk. Would the General let that happen to him? Genesis decided not to muse over it. He had to concentrate on nothing breathing or moving.

Soft steps carried down along the metal pathway, past the cylinder. Did the General not feel his presence like Genesis could feel ihis/i? It was a wonder. Genesis turned his head slightly, cringing as his earring chimed ever so lightly against the metal of the tank. The General paused and looked back. Genesis refused to move.

And with that, the General was gone, continuing on down the hall.

Genesis knew where he was going. Where else would the great General Sephiroth go in that decrepit Modeoheim facility? With a lunge, he sprung into the air, wing unfurling in all its ghastly glory. It was so large, unwieldy, and yet he could fly with it as though he had two equally balanced wings. It still hurt, from time to time. That was when he did not feel all of the other pains that went along with degradation. His body was dying, slowly but surely.

He landed atop a large steel pylon, watching with narrowed blue eyes. They no longer glowed with mako intensity. The mako was probably all that kept him alive, these days. And yet, it could barely be seen in his eyes, anymore, so grey they looked inanimate, so glazed over with pain. Genesis watched, gaze tracing every feline movement of the General as he walked across the metal of the former battleground. There were scorch marks, slices from blades. The feathers which had been left behind were already dust and forgotten.

The General stopped at the railing, black gloved hands reluctant to touch it. Genesis could see the reluctance. He watched with interest as Sephiroth leaned slightly over, cat eyes focusing down the abysmal drop. He seemed to be thinking. The silver haired SOLDIER was always thinking about something, though the hardened expression on his face, so icy, barely told of the turmoil Genesis knew to be there.

It was almost as if he was contemplating the jump.

If he did, Genesis would never forgive him.

It was more about the S Cells than anything else, now. Those would save him. With what little Genesis knew about them, he knew they would be salvation. The gift of the Goddess. All he needed was Jenova, or a transfusion from Sephiroth. Something. Anything.

Genesis was willing to feed of the scraps now. Desperation did not allow him to be picky.

He knew he could just swoop down and take some of that blood, or some of that silken silver hair. He knew he could just land and take it.

That was not want he wanted.

Genesis wanted Sephiroth to openly offer it. It would prove that their relationship had not been hollow, that the words 'I love you' had not been used wantonly. Granted, Genesis had never said those words. No. Not even once. It was the General who spoke them.

Slowly, with a reluctance like pulling teeth, the General moved away from the railing, and went back to where he had been. He looked sad. It was like Sephiroth was expecting to find something. Would he force Genesis to come back? Would he give Genesis over to ShinRa as another experiment? Was Genesis willing to risk it for his own possible salvation?

No.

He would wait. If Sephiroth offered his aid, Genesis would consider it. Then, and only then, might he ever come back.

* * *

**Ending Note:** this is short. Sorry. I am not exactly sure where I am going with this yet, other than to Nibelheim. So yeah….


	3. Chapter II: Here and Waiting

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Crisis Core, the characters in it, the scenes in it, or any of that. Those are the product of Square Enix. I merely wrote the Memory of Falling and now Fallen, which is part of the same plot arc.

**Warning:** established Sephiroth/Genesis, & established Lazard/Tseng. Dark themes. Morbid stuff. Lemon. This is not a happy and fluffy story. If you do not like yaoi, or any of the things listed before, this is not the story for you, so please press the back button now.

**Author's Note:** this fiction has been abandoned for other writing, and school work, sadly. However, my mood has been a lot more CCFF7 and FF7 lately, so…. perhaps this one will start going again? We shall see. Silent Hill is taking over my muse. Sorry. ; If anyone knows the song that I pulled the title from, I will love you forever. And probably write a gift-fic for you.

**Music:** "Night of Seclusion" –CCFF7, "This Lullaby" –Queens of the Stone Age.

**F A L L E N**

**Chapter II: Here and Waiting**

"Genesis clones are appearing everywhere."

He did not turn, hands remaining at his sides, stance tall with traces of that pride he had been so well known for. His shoulders were square, rolled back with metal pauldrons sitting proudly atop them. Just as metallic seeming hair streamed down his back. It was slightly longer than it used to be. He had not had the tips trimmed. The bangs around his face were just a touch longer than his chin, another part he had not thought to have trimmed. Those slit-pupil eyes never moved, staring despondently out of the window.

"Do you want me to keep you informed?"

With a slow blink, those mako green eyes slid shut, sealing out the polished glass, the lack of view provided through it. A long breath was taken in through pale nostrils. If one looked a little closer, they would notice that his stance was tense, not for battle but the whiplash. It was bound to hit soon. The SOLDIER floor had been quiet with the calm before the storm. That storm was coming. Sephiroth could feel it.

This war wasn't over yet.

"He might still be alive."

That wouldn't make it better.

Sephiroth opened his eyes to just slivers, little glowing crescents. It was almost time for his mako treatment. He would have turned to go, but Zack was still standing there, hovering ten feet behind him, silently pleading for forgiveness. As much as Sephiroth did not want to blame the once bouncy, lively kid, he could not help it. Sephiroth had watched in horror as Genesis jumped. Angeal had said that Genesis loved life just about as much as he loved _Loveless_. He wouldn't have jumped…

It still haunted his eyes, haunted the low whisper of his voice when he did talk. That was getting less and less often. The dreams… those haunted his sleep, not allowing for any sense of restfulness anymore. The dreams were different every time. Approximately half of them had Genesis somewhere, in body or in symbol.

They all knew now. All of the players who mattered knew. Sephiroth lifted his head just slightly, silver hair still hanging before his face. He did not move to brush it aside. It was difficult to move much these days. It felt as though something was draining his energy, every moment, making him into a sloth. His muscles still had the same tone they always did, and his sword arm the same skill, but getting himself to do more than what was required of him, of duty, was near impossible. Most mornings it was hard to even leave bed.

Where had he gone?

He watched the reflection before him, seeing the forlorn form of Zack still standing there, big blue eyes pleading with him. Sephiroth barely glanced at those eyes on the reflection before turning his head aside. He almost made an effort to project his voice, its low, almost raspy from disuse. It was like the whole of the SOLDIER floor quieted just to hear his voice.

"Leave me."

Sighing, slumping, Zack finally headed off. Zack would no doubt whine about this to one of his friends, whom seemed to be dwindling in number. Director Lazard was long gone. Many of the SOLDIERs had been killed or defected. Had Lazard appointed Genesis Commander of SOLDIER with that loyalty in mind, or had he not even realized yet? Lazard had seemed sad before he left. Was it what he did to SOLDIER in general, or what he was helping Genesis do to Sephiroth himself? Perhaps it was what Lazard knew his departure would do to Tseng.

Sephiroth waited a few long, desperate moments before he finally turned. His strides were long, lucid, almost floating rather than walking. The last time he had seen Genesis, he was staggering, clutching innumerable wounds, hell in his eyes. Sephiroth had to pause, squeezing his eyes shut tight, swallowing back the painful knot in his throat.

It was Zack who had inflicted such wounds. How many times had he said "I'm sorry"? Sephiroth had lost count. It did not matter. Hollow apologies meant nothing. No matter how many times "I'm sorry" was uttered, Genesis could not be brought back… if he was even dead. That was the problem. What if he wasn't?

As much as Sephiroth wanted Genesis to be alive, he was afraid for him if he was. ShinRa wanted revenge for its loses. SOLDIER was in shambles because of what happened. The stability of the rest of the company was on unsure footing because of it. And, Sephiroth had noticed, there were more and more eyes turned to him. They thought he would defect to.

He was honestly considering it.

What would ShinRa be then?

What, if anything, would they stop at to hunt him down?

Sephiroth started walking again, agile, easy. He swiped his security card in the reader, stepping into the elevator. Out of curiosity, he pressed the button to the top floor, the president's office.

"Authorization Declined." The mechanical voice chirped over the elevator's intercom, so calm, so devoid of emotion. Sephiroth had once prided himself on being that way. Now he was just a void. It was no so much that he did not understand the emotions any longer; they had been ripped away. His happiness was gone now. It would be a long road down.

A black gloved finger pressed the button for the floor with Director Lazard's office, the same message coming over the intercom. Sephiroth looked down at the control panel. It displayed his name, his station, unchanged. He pressed the button for the medical lab, another rejection. Sephiroth finally tapped the button for his living quarters, the glass doors sliding shut, elevator powering up.

ShinRa was closing down where he could be, what he could see. It came as little surprise. They did not trust him. Even since President ShinRa had found out about the relationship between Sephiroth and Genesis, that trust he once had vanished entirely, as though it had not even been there in the first place. Luckily for Tseng, the president had yet to find out about he and Lazard. If he did, Sephiroth could imagine the punishment. Turks were never allowed retirement, after all. Every Turk died "in the line of duty".

It was not something he would be telling the president, either. Sephiroth had never been like that. Bitter and cruel were two entirely different things.

With a mocking ding, the elevator doors came open, Sephiroth staring blankly for a moment down the hall. The hunched form of Hojo was hard to miss. He was standing outside the apartment that was Sephiroth's, with a box full of equipment. Hojo knew as well, both about Genesis and the sudden restrictions. Hojo taunted him about it.

"I warned you."

That did not change the thousand-mile stare in Sephiroth's eyes, or the indifference in his stride. Hojo did this every day. He would remind Sephiroth of the warning given. Even a heart of ice could shatter, though. Or melt. Sephiroth had learned that all too well. Now he was gazing off into space, unlocking the door and letting Hojo in.

The scientist set up his equipment on the low glass table before the couch. Sephiroth knew the drill. He removed his jacket from only one arm, sitting down with that half of his torso exposed. The flesh was paler than usual, no longer creamy and just white. It was not a healthy shade. Hojo commented on that too, asking about eating patterns.

A flat answer was given in response. Sephiroth did not move as a needle was slid into his arm, drawing blood out into a vial. It would be taken for testing, to measure mako levels and other minerals that needed to be in the General's system. Next a different needle was put in, glowing green liquid squeezed from it out into Sephiroth's bloodstream.

He would be too nauseas for the next hour to do anything. Hojo packed up his supplies again with a thinly veiled threat about Sephiroth eating better. It fell on deaf ears. He sat there, perfectly still, like a broken marble statue as he waited for Hojo to leave. And when the hunching doctor did, Sephiroth let himself slide to the side, shoulder stopping his fall against the bottom cushion of the couch. He pulled his legs up, curling them, hugging them to his chest.

From that fetal position, he stared at the plain metal wall across from him.

* * *

"_My mother's name was Jenova. That is… all I know of my parents." Sephiroth looked away, eyes mostly veiled, silver hair falling to cover the half of his face that still faced Genesis. It was not the right topic to bring up. The quiet mood had suddenly become solemn. It was far from the right topic to bring up._

_Genesis licked his dry lips, looking up towards the sky. The stars were just starting to blink into existence in the wide open blue sky, the moon already rising up though the sun had yet to sink entirely beneath the horizon. "Look. The stars are coming out." Genesis forced a smile._

_Sephiroth stood sharply, boots crunching across the healthy green grass. Blinking, Genesis turned, following the silver haired SOLDIER with his eyes. His throat suddenly felt dry. He had just brought up yet another thing Sephiroth had not had as a child. Wasn't he just great at conversation?_

_So much for their time in Banora being perfect._

The name scrawled above that door… J-E-N-O-V-A. It was the same name as Sephiroth's mother. Genesis leaned against the maroon metal door, cupping his hands around his face to block out the light. He could barely see through the little bit of glass on that thick, sealed door. There was a small corridor, barely a few steps long, before massive wires rose up. That was all Genesis could see of the interior.

There had to be controls for the door somewhere.

Something at the back of his head told him to leave it be for now. There would come a time.

Taking a step back, Genesis lowered his hands, letting them drop numbly to his sides. His wing extended feebly, stretching as best it could before folding weakly again. A few grayed feathers dropped to the ground at his feet. Even the crimson of his jacket was fading. The sight of it disgusted him. If Angeal was still around, Genesis would ask: Am I a monster now?

But he wasn't.

It still hurt sometimes. Genesis' cinnamon brows came in, creases forming between them. It was like Zack had been a hell-bent demon. Zack was not an issue for now. Yes, he was growing stronger as a SOLDIER every day, but that did not change the moral compass Angeal instilled in the boy. If Angeal could not live on _that_ side, how could Zack.

He would come around. He would see. It was just a matter of time.

And Sephiroth would see, too.

Genesis turned, having to pause as the chamber spun around him for a moment. There were tubes everywhere, much like the over-sized test tubes copies of Angeal and Genesis were born from. Who were these tubes for? Genesis walked before one, gazing in to the vat of mako it held.

A true monster floated inside, with glowing, mako green eyes. Genesis' brows furrowed more, his turning, moving quickly to the next tube. It was the same predicament. There were mako green eyes and gray-ish flesh, and fangs. Genesis touched the little glass portal he gazed through, that action drawing a shiver. It crept up his arm, through his spine, a shudder shaking his not-so-strong frame. He used to be strong. He used to be the epitome of SOLDIER.

What made his mouth dry, what made the chills so strong, was the fact that there was a string of familiarity he got when touching the glass, when staring into those eyes. It was the same feeling he had when sensing one of his own copies, only different. It was Sephiroth he felt on the other side of that glass.

Turning too swiftly and not caring, Genesis made a haphazard trip down the stairs, turning right before he was entirely down them. There was just one valve that he could see in the chamber, his mauve gloved hands resting on that metal wheel. Something in the back of his head told him no. Wait. This is not a task for you.

Closing his eyes, he leaned forward, forehead touching the cool metal of the pipe the valve was connected to. He could feel the mako pulsing in that pipe. It had to be connected to the door, but he let his hands slip off the wheel. He wouldn't do it.

Some day, he would finally meet Sephiroth's mother. Someday.

* * *

It had been a late day. A long day. Sephiroth closed the door behind him, locking it. No one would disturb him there, unless it came from a cell phone ring. Sephiroth had told no one to disturb him. As he walked, he cast the phone aside, its spinning and sliding halfway across the glass table before it stopped. He kept going, rounding the corner, going down the hall. This apartment was like a mirror reflection of his own. There were trails of dust here and there, though, showing that it was no longer truly inhabited. Seeing dust there made him flinch. Genesis would have hated it.

If Genesis was there, that is…

Supposedly there were files Genesis had kept, that would be somewhere inside the apartment. Sephiroth went straight to the office, opening the desk, the drawers, sorting through piles of unattended paperwork. There was nothing. He went into the bathroom, a place Genesis might have found it comical to read files, finding nothing in there. Lastly he meandered into the bedroom.

The copy was still there, lying on its side on the bed. That was practically all it did. Sephiroth glided past it to the closet, which he opened, and walked into. There were a few boxes up on the top shelf, most of the clothing long since gone. What little clothing was left, he had dressed the clone in. Sadly, the scent of Genesis had faded weeks ago. Months, even.

He did not even have to get on his toes to reach the boxes, tipping them off their ledge and catching them in strong, leather encased arms. He set each one down, and then sat in the middle of the mess he made. It felt wrong to go through them. There were journals, photographs, the like in most of them. Sephiroth's fingers brushed against something glass.

Carefully, he lifted the bottle out of the box, blinking as he stared at the amber liquid in it. Holding it close to his nose with a timid, confused air, he sniffed.

It smelled like Genesis.

The bottle was cradled against his chest, like some precious and breakable materia. He closed his eyes, taking a deep whiff. It was the scent Genesis wore, through and through, and now it was here. His body's reaction was almost immediate upon that smell, arousal forming against his will. Sephiroth did not even do so much as touch himself, nor did he find another partner. No one would make up for Genesis. But now, this…

With determined steps, Sephiroth made his way back into the bedroom. The paperwork was already forgotten. There was a new mission on his mind. He sat carefully on the edge of the bed, as though he might disturb the copy from its pseudo-sleep. It did not stir. Trembling hands extended the bottle out, left index finger moving up onto the top, pushing down gently. That was not enough. He pushed down a little harder, white part sliding down suddenly, a mist flying from that top.

It made Sephiroth jump, but like a hovering cloud, the scent of Genesis settled on the bed, on the copy. Sephiroth closed his eyes and took a deep breath of it. It brought a pleasant shiver up his spine, a shifting in the tight encasement of his pants. "Mmmm," escaped his lips, eyes fluttering open again. He had already set the glass bottle on the table, pushing his boots off as he climbed up onto the bed, behind the copy.

First he extended an arm, circling it around the copy. After a few moments without a response, he buried his face into that sea of cinnamon hair, eyes squeezed absolutely shut, mind remembering what those gorgeous locks looked like before all hell broke loose. Those crimson locks were what his face remained buried in, just taking in that familiar and yearned for scent.

The copy stirred, turning beneath his arm. Their noses brushed. Sephiroth felt his pulse quicken, heart jumping to his throat. There was a hot stinging to his closed eyes, the eyelids, prickling, warning him of the forming tears. He tilted his head, moving closer. His cool lips brushed those of the copy with a chaste caution, barely touching as though too much contact make this all dissolve. The copy moved forward a little, wiggling closer.

For a moment at least, he could imagine it was actually Genesis.

Their lips fitted together like two matched pieces of a puzzle, meshing, jaw muscles working together in perfect unison. Sephiroth moved the copy—moved Genesis—closer, a soft, barely audible moan slipping his lips as he nudged that mouth open with his tongue, searching the inside of that warm mouth. It was just as welcoming as he imagined, and the tongue worked up into a dance with him. It was not the sparring, the duel of tongues he fondly remembered, but a softer, more tender thing that he cherished just as much.

His hands hand minds of their own, wandering, sliding up under the black, sleeveless turtleneck, roaming over the perfectly sculpted musculature, the forms he had memorized. Sephiroth jerked off his gloves and his jacket, tossing them carelessly aside as he dove back into another kiss, desperately seeking for more and more response. Each time their lips broke apart, to remove the turtleneck, to look down to jerk off pants, their lips crashed with more urgency.

The slender digits of his left hand coiled around the copy's—Genesis'—member, stroking it as though it was a fountain to be pumped for water in the midst of a desert. This body was an oasis when he had never known water, and long had he traveled for it. Their limbs entangled, a pleasant blur.

Sephiroth could not stop sucking in that scent.

The first thrust of his hips was slow, careful, the entrance tighter than he had ever remembered Genesis' being. It had been so long, he rationalized. They grew in intensity, in speed, those hips moving up to collide with his and he buried himself deep, again and again. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks without him realizing it, until Genesis kissed those cheeks. In a moment his mouth, trembling, was finding Genesis' again, desperately pushing onto it, trying to taste it, almost trying to become with it.

When he came, it was hard, Sephiroth shaking from head to foot, coiling reflexively into the body he was hilt-deep into. Reluctantly, he pulled out, hands still roaming and groping that body, begging for it to speak, begging to hear that gorgeous voice Genesis had been unafraid of flaunting.

That body started convulsing.

Sephiroth moved sharply back, eyes shooting open, red-rimmed and full of liquid. It was just a Genesis copy, lying unrobed, disheveled, debauched. It was twitching, eyes wide and wild, mouth gaping, opening and closing.

"S… cells…. S…."

It sat up suddenly, sitting absolutely still. Sephiroth edged off the bed, almost falling off before catching himself. He could barely stand, but forced himself too. The smell of sex and Genesis was overpowering his senses, still. Sephiroth felt nauseas. He had to press the back of a pale hand to his thin lips in order to stop himself from losing his minimal lunch.

Its eyes turned entirely white, faintly glowing. Its teeth began to elongate, sharpen. That fading, grey streaked hair now looked like it had been soaked in blood. Its hands, claws burst from the fingers, a loud screech flying from its ghastly split lips.

The tears could not be held back now. Sephiroth swallowed back the bitter taste of bile, shaking uncontrollably as his back hit the bedroom wall. What had he done? He shouldn't have… he shouldn't have touched it… it was wrong… it was…

Bright wings ripped from its back, leathery and demonic. Twitching uncontrollably, it turned on him.

Hot liquid was spilling down his chest.

Sephiroth looked down, seeing five defined claw marks carved into his chest. The pain did not even register. With a shriek, it jumped forward again.

With a flash, the masamune plunged through it. He turned his wrist, twisting the blade sideways, cutting outwards. It sliced through the creature, one clean cleave almost rending it in half.

In a tangled, naked heap, it fell back upon the bed.

Eyes still wide, Sephiroth slid down the wall, back against it, legs bending up as he went down. He hit the floor, ignoring the blood still oozing from his chest. The bleeding would stop soon enough, the wounds mending just as quickly. Sephiroth did not pay head to them, a numb hand still wrapped around the hilt of the bloodied masamune.

That was Genesis' blood.

Sephiroth couldn't help it. He turned, stomach emptying itself, purging him of the venom festering within. When he was done, he laid weakly on his side, staring with big, blank eyes at the bed, at the blood dripping from the masamune, still in his hand.

He had killed it. He had killed Genesis.

It was over.


	4. Chapter III: Unspoken Truths

**Disclaimer:** I do not own FF7, CCFF7, or any related stuffs. I just write fanfic. And this series of fanfic. Dun hurt me?

**Warning:** M for a reason. Dark themes, established yaoi, violence, language, etc, etc. If you haven't liked anything I've warned for in previous chapters, or the things warned for here, I suggest leaving now.

**Author's Note:** Been a while, huh? Job has been a pain, as has been school. And then, the total loss of inspiration. And, a special note, IF YOU BUG ME ABOUT ONE MORE FUCKING CHAPTER, I WILL DROP THIS FIC ALL TOGETHER. There, much better. Clear?

**Music:** "Creep" –Radiohead, "Advent: One Winged Angel" –FF7:AC, "The Price of Freedom" –CCFF7, "A Changing Situation" –CCFF7, "Melody of Agony" –CCFF7

**FALLEN**

**Chapter III: Unspoken Truths**

_The rise and fall of his breaths were gentle, peaceful, a slight rustle of silver hair and moon-pale skin. Sleep hadn't always been this peaceful for Sephiroth. Genesis could remember those nights, when they first started spending them together, and Sephiroth would have nightmares, terrible nightmares, and toss and turn the entire night. It was different now, and Genesis felt a smile curving up on his lips as he watched the rise and fall from the view of Sephiroth's back._

_From a distance those long strands of silver hair seemed sacred, like a temple even. Even up close, it had felt like sacrilege to touch them, Genesis wanting to, wanting to feel the long silken strands, so carefully cared for, but it felt wrong. And now he let his bare fingers comb through them, feeling every shining length, and his smile spread a little further._

_Blissfully unaware, Sephiroth continued to sleep, sheets only pulled to his middle, torso out to the open air. Genesis was much the same, and thought wistfully of the first time they had slept in the same room. Sephiroth had been unsure about it, but was too spent to argue, and when Genesis woke up, he found himself in the General's arms. It had made him chuckle, though Sephiroth wouldn't talk about it. In fact, Genesis had managed to pull a blush from the General about that._

_He continued his combing motions, enjoying the texture, the stillness and peacefulness. There were few pristine moments like this in ShinRa, and he was glad to have this one, even if Sephiroth, the main motivator of it, was asleep through the whole thing._

A groan tumbled from his lips, and Genesis plummeted a few feet, stumbling once he hit the ground. That stagger faltered and he fell one knee, pain shooting up his leg. The glaring sunlight hurt his eyes, Genesis squeezing them shut to mere crescents. His crimson gloved hands grabbed fistfuls of thick, green grass, coiling around them and trembling. His breathing was ragged at best, Genesis trying to ignore how it tore at his lungs with every inhalation and exhalation.

The field stretched on for miles, so lushly green it looked like the grass sprouted straight from an emerald. How far was he from Midgar? Genesis looked up, barely able to make out the form of Chocobo stables to the north, across that field. The flight was long, too long. His wing ached. Genesis let go of the grass, pushing himself to stand. His wing strained against him as he stretched it.

There would be no use in flying right now.

Genesis walked a few feet, shielding his eyes from the bright sun, trying to concentrate on better times. They were there, somewhere.

And times were only going to get better if he could find the Gift of the Goddess. It was just a matter of patience, of holding on a little longer. Soon enough, he would be healed, body returned to the state it should be in, with auburn hair and bright blue eyes and blemishless pale skin. Genesis ran a hand through his silver streaked locks; they were rough, choppy, full of split ends. He had fallen far.

But he had a message to deliver, and nothing would stop him.

It was about time Sephiroth knew who he was.

0 0 0 0 0

The ShinRa Army was practicing on the field, marching in mostly straight lines, head held high and guns cradled tight. Sephiroth watched at the head of the field, the commander of that brigade standing next to him. The General's black gloved hands were clasped behind his back, posture straight and shoulders square, chin angled just slightly up. It made him seem aloof, and most notably above them. Sephiroth was, and the entire world knew it.

There were SOLDIERs interspersed here and there, a new practice since the beginning of the Wutai War. They marched in between lines, most of which with swords strapped across their backs, gleaming, ridge fronted helmets mounted on their heads. Sephiroth watched them more than he watched the infantrymen. Those men of the ShinRa Army were not his concern. However, SOLDIERs were _his_ men, and thus were _his_ personal concern.

It reflected on the General what the SOLDIERs could, or could not do.

Swiveling slowly, Sephiroth walked the full front perimeter of the training field, head turned slightly to the side, so he could still watch them from the corners of his eyes. The SOLDIERs, what few there were left, were all in good form. The Army was a different matter all together. Some of them were perfect, but most were clumsy, weak rejects from the SOLDIER cadet system, spit down into the lower ranks where they would remain until the day they died.

That was how most 'prospective' SOLDIERs ended up. They wanted to be like Sephiroth, yet they would not make the same sacrifices. Sephiroth had given away toys in his youth for swords. He had given away games like tag and hide & go seek for chess and other strategy based exercises. Sephiroth had no friends. He had no lovers. No one would dare approach him and lay a hand on him, enemy and ally alike.

Had it always been this way? Sephiroth paused mid-step, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he inhaled deeply through his nostrils. For a moment, he thought he could smell… cinnamon. Sephiroth's eyes flared open, and his turned sharply on his heel, facing the marching troops. With a cold determination, he strode forward, long gait taking him right up to the infantrymen immediately. That distance bridged, he walked right next to the marching troops, watching them, keeping his sense of scent keen as he kept going.

The front row taken care of, no one smelling of cinnamon, Sephiroth began going between the lines, noticing how there was a ripple of fear in his wake. The infantrymen and SOLDIERs alike were nervous. Lately, Sephiroth had merely been an eye staring at them from a distance, distracted in his thoughts. Now he was right there, a tangible force, on from which anyone with keen senses could feel the sheer power radiating off his strong form. It was no longer awe and reverence Sephiroth saw.

It was fear.

He might have been insulted, had he not been concentrated so fiercely upon making his way through the lines, acting like he was observing them with his eyes when he was actually, discretely, observing them with his nose.

There was no scent of cinnamon amongst his group. Sephiroth walked back to the front of the field, taking up his spot next to the commander again. The man had a wry smile on his lips, and turned his head to speak to the General. "Damn. Had I known it was that easy to correct all of their mistakes, I would have asked you to do that months ago!"

To see what the commander was talking about, Sephiroth let his eyes focus on the drilling troops, noting how all of the lines were arrow straight now, weapons held properly, feet lifted higher in the march. Only the SOLDIERs seemed the same, and they had been doing their part properly to begin with. Nodding, as though that had been his plan, Sephiroth continued to watch in silence, mind elsewhere entirely.

What had brought that spicy, too familiar, smell to his nose?

Or was it just his mind playing tricks on him?

That had been happening a lot lately. Nightmares, which had been a now and then occurrence before, had become an event of every night, often reoccurring multiple times. The nightmares were more gruesome, morbidly violent and dark, and Sephiroth woke in a frightened, cold sweat every time. Sometimes he had to kill Genesis copies again and again, and though he knew they were copies, it hurt every bit as much as Sephiroth was sure it would had he killed the man himself. Other times, he himself was the monster, hunted by ShinRa, Genesis the shining General, the poster boy of SOLDIER.

The other one Sephiroth could not discern if it should be classified as a dream or a nightmare. He was flying in that dream. With one black wing. Like Genesis', only his sprouted from the opposite shoulder, the right side. Sephiroth could not help but thinking if they merged, he and Genesis, they would be one whole, with two glistening ebony wings, able to fly any skies together. It was a romantic notion, but an illogical one as well.

As soon as Sephiroth noticed his own thoughts getting carried away with themselves, he reigned himself back in, watching the routine with the same stoic mask as he always did. It was best if none of them realized their General was distressed. The troops needed no distraction.

0 0 0 0 0

His red gloved fists slammed down on the desk, making a cup, some papers and folders, and the computer screen jump a little. A phone fell with a clatter and bang to the ground. He did not care, leaning forward with a growl, supporting himself on his splayed fingers on that desk. The man in the executive chair across from him leaned back, eyes wide, sweat rolling down his face. Sweat had darkened the chest, under the arms and around the neck of his red suit; President ShinRa never should have worn the color.

"I told you, I know nothing. The scientists don't keep me in the loop."

Genesis shook his head, silver and copper hair falling in his face. It would break his menacing aura if he reached up to flip it back, or moved his head to do so, so he kept his grey-blue eyes focused on the president, even through the obscuring of his fringe. Such was the cost of his haircut; Genesis was not about to change it, even as the rest of him faded.

"Liar." Genesis seethed, voice low and full of venom. "Your signature of approval is on the Jenova Project. You know full well what it is and what it did. I've seen the documents, in Nibelheim. I've seen the mako reactor with the vault labeled Jenova. She's in there, isn't she?"

"Not even Hojo knows her location."

Rolling his eyes, Genesis stood up straight, hands coiling into fists at his sides. He did not have the patience to deal with this idiot, but he would not kill him, either. Genesis had a feeling the General would want to do it himself. "What if the General discovered the truth about his birth, his parents, everything?"

Despite the degradation, his senses were still sharp. So sharp, in fact, that he could hear the rapid increase in the President's heart rate, the catch in his breath. The increase in the production load of his sweat glands was enough that is should have been audible, yet was not. The smell, however, intensified. Genesis could smell every ounce of the President's fear in that office.

"Oh, so you do know something." A predatory grin lifted at the corners of his cracked lips. He could taste the iron of blood in his mouth, faint but ever present.

He needed her cells _now_.

"I…"

The door opened behind them, soft footsteps traveling up the carpeted stairs. Genesis recognized that gait, his smirk spreading, deepening. With a spring of his legs, a beat of his graying wing, he was airborne, hovering above the figure that was approaching the large desk of father ShinRa.

The platinum blond hair and cold blue eyes, the white suit, the gun he almost always kept with him now: it was the perfect target.

Tucking his wing, Genesis plummeted, hands seizing upon the teen's shoulders, lips by the round of his ear, hissing into it. "Drop the gun."

With a clatter, the gun fell to the floor, hands starting to rise. Genesis did not expect a ShinRa to surrender so easily. Rufus had to have another trick somewhere up his sleeve, though Genesis could not, at the moment, see what that was. Keeping a firm grip on the young Vice President's shoulders, Genesis grinned at the man across from him, who was even more frightened now. It seemed like the man did have a caring bone in his body, even if it hadn't been for Lazard.

"This is another one of your mistakes, coming back to haunt us…" Rufus' words were soft, measured. There was a lot of power in that brain of his; it was so intelligent, it just needed some help in harnessing that energy, that potential. The blond boy licked his lips, blue eyes portals to the fear he was trying not to show through the rest of his body.

Genesis had had too many mako treatments not to notice the subtle little differences.

"So, Mr. President, where is she? Where's Jenova?"

The President looked from his son's face, to Genesis, and back again. His blond brows were furrowed in, darkened from sweat. Genesis did not like the way this was going, the way he kept looking back and forth, weighing his decisions. It looked like Rufus was on the losing side of the equation. Perhaps Genesis had been too hasty in his decision about President ShinRa's compassion.

"She is locked in the vault at the mako reactor in Nibelheim, in the mountains." It was Rufus' voice that filled the silence. He was staring right at his father, a hard, angry look painting his pale features. "Though she is in status, Hojo believes the sheer force of her mind keeps the vault locked to any outsiders."

"Thank you." Genesis kissed Rufus' cheek, a wolfish grin on his lips. "You'll make a fine president one day." With that, he sprung back, one wing powering him out of the window.

0 0 0 0 0

There was an uncomfortable sort of hush in the ShinRa Tower as he returned. His long strides carried him swiftly past a row of guards, which parted immediately for him before returning to formation. Something had happened. The scent of cinnamon still clung to his nostrils, to his mind and would not leave, powering his strides faster. There was something wrong. Sephiroth could tell immediately as he slid his card at the elevator, glancing over at the secretary's desk to see that there was a Turk leaning over his shoulder, reviewing the logs of everyone who passed through.

He pressed the button twice hastily with his black gloved finger, watching with narrowed eyes as the glass door slid shut. The elevator powered upwards, going straight to the top floor as he demanded. With a ding, the elevator opened, and he came quickly up the stairs, slowing when he saw the controlled stride of Tseng approaching.

"Have you been briefed on the situation?"

Sephiroth shook his head, silver hair falling in a chaotic halo about his chiseled face. He needed to have the front of his hair trimmed. It was hanging past his chin now. He had not had it cut since Genesis first went missing.

"Genesis broke into the building. He—"

"Was it really him, or just a copy?" His voice was surprisingly cold, detached. He had to be. Genesis was dead, and yet, at times, he could still feel him there. That smell… Sephiroth took a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut. That cinnamon smell lingered on the air of the President's office. What would Genesis want with the President?

"He could speech, and his body was in an advanced state of degradation. There were no Turks present when he was here, so we cannot get confirmation."

"So we are just going off President ShinRa's word?"

"And Rufus'." Tseng glanced over his shoulder. The teen was sitting in a chair, shaking from head to foot. There were two Turks talking to him, though it did not seem to be helping any. "He used Rufus as leverage for something, but they will not tell us what."

The flat way Tseng said it, without an ounce of irritation, told Sephiroth immediately that it was not true. No Turk would be happy without getting the full story. They were trained to interrogate by force, torture, if they did not get the answers they were seeking. Sephiroth glanced towards the President's desk. The man was staring at him. "Were there any injuries?"

"No."

Again, Tseng's tone cued him in. Sephiroth knew, from that, that there were no physical injuries. The psychological ones were apparent, even though he still felt that he was only being told half the story, on purpose. It had to do with Genesis. "I can handle the details. Genesis is no longer part of SOLDIER. He is a traitor, which makes him the enemy."

Tseng shook his head. "I am not at leisure to discuss the details with you, General." Turning on his heel, Tseng quickly strode back to the scene, leaving him in silence, leaving him alone.

There was something going on here, and Sephiroth needed to get to the bottom of it.


	5. Chapter IV: Purity

**Disclaimer:** I do not own FF7, CCFF7, associated characters, places, events, etc. Those are all Square Enix. I just write a ton of fics about this stuff.

**Warnings:** yaoi, dark themes, morbidity

**Author's Note:** I was riding the bus, and found my muse hiding in the music of E.S. Posthumus. Yay! This would have been up sooner, but, as you all probably know, fanfic was having some issues. Originally, the chapter was going to be much longer, but I decided to split it up.

**Music: **E.S. Posthumus "Pompeii" and "Nara", "J E N O V A" and "For the Reunion" ~FF7AC

**F A L L E N**

**Chapter IV: Purity**

"Open the tank."

With a low grunt, he heaved, gloved hands slipping on the metal valve before the tension finally gave, wheel grinding around its circuit. A loud hiss of hot air escaped the nearby chamber, door sliding open with a rush of scalding mako liquid. Genesis stopped with a shaky breath, flexing his fingers on the valve. His arms were shaking. Where had his SOLDIER strength gone?

A grating laugh escaped Hollander as he dared venture close to the open capsule, the steaming contents. It was a monster. There was no mistaking it for anything else. Stepping up onto the first tier, Genesis flipped the limp creature, body tensing as he saw its eyes. Those eyes were the color of the purist mako crystal, bright and undeniably green. Those eyes were like Sephiroth's.

Hollander stuck a needle into the grey flesh of its muscular neck, drawing out a vial of its mako-laced blood. He was grinning ear to ear. Putting the vial in his carrying case, Hollander snapped it shut, waddling for the entrance. Genesis suppressed the shudder crawling up his spine, heaving the creature back into its metallic coffin. Pushing it shut, he watched as the container refilled itself, as if no intrusion had taken place at all. That was a good thing. It would cover their tracks.

Leave it to Hojo to pick the most remote location he could to conduct his experiments. He had definitely learned from Gast, though that locale, Modeoheim, had long since been blown.

Perhaps not. The Northern Crater still harbored a great many secrets.

"You coming, Genesis?" Hollander hovered at the door, leaning against the frame. The traveling, the running, it had all taken its toll on the doctor. More grey and white streaked the man's once black hair, more wrinkles creasing his skin. There was a crazed glaze to his dark eyes. Losing Angeal had really done his mind in.

Giving one last glance to the tank, the ghastly face inside of it with those snake-like, brilliantly green eyes, Genesis hopped down from the landing, crossing the metal grated floor to the entrance, where Hollander was waiting for them.

They needed to get back to the mobile lab. They needed to test the samples, see if the S-Cells, could be isolated and utilized. Right now, it looked as though the S-Cells Sephiroth carried were the only ones which could save him, salvage this deteriorating life. He could never go back to ShinRa, but it was a start, a new lease on survival. Perhaps…

Hollander paused on the stairs outside the reactor, clearing his throat loudly. Genesis quickly followed after him, knowing that now was not the time to get lost in thought.

0 0 0 0 0

He was painfully aware of their presence.

Any other SOLDIER might not have noticed, the Turks were so good at hiding themselves, flitting soundlessly from one shadow to another. He could _feel_ them, though. There was no doubt as to their presence, though he had to wonder as to why they were there.

He was loyal to SOLDIER, to ShinRa. He had nowhere else to go, knew nothing else in the world. What were they so afraid of?

Mako green eyes narrowed as he rounded the corner. The Turk down the hall did not dodge out of sight fast enough. Sephiroth was coming back from a mission down in the city, tiny beads of sweat sitting on his exposed skin, plastering his leather suit to his body. He was not in the mood for any issues, like he had been having lately.

It was frustrating, having to be escorted to the Science Floor for his usual check-ups from Hojo. It was insulting that he could no longer go to the President's office without someone else accompanying him, even though a major part of Sephiroth's job description was keeping President ShinRa safe.

Running a gloved hand back through his slightly damp silver hair, Sephiroth swiped his card, waiting for the elevator to come down. It took longer than he expected. Finally, the long awaited shrill ding filled his ears, and he stepped into the glass cylinder, pressing the button for SOLDIER Floor.

"_Authorization Declined._"

The words barely registered on his ears. He looked down at the button panel, carefully singling out the SOLDIER Floor button with his eyes, pressing it firmly again, just in case he accidentally hit the wrong one, which wasn't likely, but still possible.

"_Authorization Declined._"

They were locking down the whole building to him.

Tseng swiped his own card, stepping inside, pressing that same button. The elevator doors slid shut, and the glass cylinder finally began powering up the massive ShinRa tower. Sephiroth stared at the panel, eyes distant, not a word escaping his pursed lips. Tseng didn't say a word either. The Turk remained silent, hands folded before him, hawk-like gaze focused somewhere, not on Sephiroth.

Systematically, they were locking him out of ShinRa.

He couldn't say a word to Tseng. Stating his feelings to the Turks would be a death sentence. Who could he trust now? Sephiroth felt almost certain that the Turks had gotten to most of still remaining SOLDIERs, made them swear to report in anything Sephiroth said. Who wouldn't betray him?

Zack. Zack Fair wouldn't betray him to the Turks.

Sephiroth kept that in mind as the elevator continued on its way up, biding his time in that uncomfortable hush. He needed to talk to someone, anyone. That was one of the things Genesis had changed about him. He needed to unburden himself.

0 0 0 0 0

"These cells are mutated. We can't utilize them."

"Mutated?" Genesis felt the anger rising in his voice, boiling in his throat, ready to be spat out as a vat of venom. "I thought you said S-Cells were pure! That they couldn't degrade!" He slammed his fists down on the metal examination table, medical instruments jumping. This was his life-line at stake, and it wouldn't work?

"These monsters, they seem to be failed attempts to recreate Sephiroth. There is one in each tank. I wonder how many more there are out there."

How calm Hollander sounded made Genesis all the more angry. The frustration was seething in his veins, just as his body began to shake with the all too familiar weakness he had been plagued with since the degradation began.

Genesis shook his head. While Hollander had managed to make two near-perfect monsters right off the bat, Hojo had managed to make only one perfect monster, and could not seem to replicate the results. It made Genesis wonder. He wanted to go to the mansion. There had to be something hidden there. "So that's that? I'm going to die anyway?"

"Not necessarily. We need the original."

"Sephiroth…"

Hollander nodded, grunting. Genesis knew why. It was going to be hard to get ShinRa's prized SOLDIER to cooperate, or to even get him somewhere they could take the samples they needed by force, to make this ever more elusive cure for him.

"Can you raise some havoc?"

A smirk quirked up on Genesis' pale, cracked lips. He thrived on chaos, of course he could. "What if they send the Puppy instead? Like with Banora?"

"I need you to raise enough that they have no choice _but_ to send Sephiroth."

This would be difficult, considering the current state of his health, but he would do it. He would do anything to finally be free of ShinRa's failings.

They needed a pure monster.


	6. Chapter V: Secrets

**Disclaimer:**__I do not own CCFF7, any associated characters, scenes, dialogue, locales, etc. Those are the work of Square Enix. I merely write this fanfic.

**Warning:** dark themes, tragedy, insanity, mischief, implied yaoi, language, strife, Strife, etc. If you don't like any of these things (I don't like Cloud either, but please don't run away on that account), please leave now rather than wasting your time, and wasting my time. Thanks.

**Author's Note:** homework is killing me. However, I have managed to work in a little time for my muse. Hopefully that will last. Sorry that last chapter was so short. It was pretty much just set up for these upcoming chapters. Sorry this one is short too. The next ones will totally make up for it.

**Music:** "Materia" ~FF7AC, "Truth Behind the Project" ~CCFF7, "For the Reunion" ~FF7AC

**F A L L E N**

**Chapter V: Secrets**

"I do not feel welcome here any longer." His voice sounded hollow, distant, even to his finely tuned ears. Though he was staring at the far metal wall, his eyes would not focus. There was an unexplainable lump in his throat. Though they were alone, he could _sense_ it, he still felt like there were too many eyes and ears present.

"That's not true. Come on, cheer up. We're all trying to sort this stuff out." Zack seemed completely unaffected, at least in his tone. Sephiroth turned his head, catching that dark blue gaze. Those eyes were worried, though it was well hidden. He still wasn't as good at hiding his emotions as the General was himself.

"I'll try." Sephiroth stood, turning quickly, gracefully, on his heel. He could still feel the burden heavy on his shoulders, in his gut. Nothing had been relieved by this. Somehow, he had been expecting there to be a great release of tension, for everything to feel fine again, but Sephiroth felt exactly the opposite. He was in a pressure cooker and the release valve had just broken off.

It was only a matter of time now.

"You sure?" Zack had stood too, that worry shining even more obviously in his mako-changed eyes.

Giving a short nod, the kind of movement he was known for, Sephiroth kept walking. There was no one he could really talk to anymore. Angeal was gone. His patience had been a solid rock in his life, always there to lend an ear, though Sephiroth had never really utilized it. Genesis was gone. Genesis…

He could not get the dream out of his mind.

_The mansion was familiar to him. He paused beneath one of the evergreen trees, a black gloved hand resting against the gnarled, weather torn bark. He could feel the life pulsing through it, and it almost seemed as though the pine needles curled away from his presence, recoiled from his touch._

_Like he was some sort of monster._

_Pushing himself away from the tree, he continued up the cracked and uneven cobble path, mako green eyes raking over the dying landscape, trying to store all that information, go through his memories, find out why it felt like he had been there before. It was almost like coming home._

_Home. He was not really sure what that word meant._

_Going up a few short steps, he lifted his hand to knock, hand hovering in the air before the door, not daring to move for a moment. Sephiroth closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Knocking was the polite thing to do, the correct way to go about things, but he knew, from the churning in his stomach, that he did not want someone to answer, was afraid of who might answer._

_This place was decaying. Like Genesis. This whole manor made him think of Genesis, even though it was far from the sunny fields and arched trees of Banora._

_Not knocking, he eased open the door, not having to push very hard for the wooden thing to move on its partially rusted hinges. The discordant sound of an un-tuned piano drifted to his ears. Sephiroth knew the music immediately. LOVELESS. The sound drew him in, steps carrying him quickly across the ragged floor. There was no time for his mind to register what he was doing, to prepare, as he was already rushing through the door._

_There he was. A slight tinge of leather, laced with the intoxicating aroma of cinnamon titillated his nostrils, and he couldn't stop himself from inhaling it deeply, mako bright eyes fluttering shut as his nerves fired rapidly. Even with the cologne, the copy still had not smelled like that. He did not open his eyes until a voice drifted to his ears, fluid, melodic, entrancing._

"_Even if the morrow is barren of promises… nothing shall forestall my return."_

_Sephiroth let his gaze drift to the piano, where crimson gloved fingers worked nimbly over the remaining keys, a warped version of the LOVELESS play's theme echoing off the hollow walls. His eyes traced up a strong, leather entrapped arm, to the sheen of a polished black pauldron, to the vibrant red of his hair. Genesis turned his head slightly, bright blue eyes daring him to say something._

He hadn't been able to speak. Sephiroth swiped his card at the elevator, going in, pressing one of the few buttons still available to him. The elevator felt so much more claustrophobic now that there was practically nowhere it could go. That glass tube meant nothing to him now.

Stepping out into the hallway that lead to his office, he paused as a flutter in the shadows caught his eye. Rather than acknowledging it, he kept walking, going past that spot and finding nothing. Either it had been Tseng, the only one of the Turks truly capable of evading his sharp senses, or a figment of his imagination.

Lately, the latter seemed the more viable.

Cabin fever was burning through his veins. He needed an escape, an outlet, something. SOLDIER's activity had increased significantly after the conclusion of the Wutai War, even more so with the loss of Director Lazard. It was only a matter of time before SOLDIER faded away into nothingness as well.

Without him, that was exactly what SOLDIER would do. Sephiroth wondered if he would still be ShinRa's poster boy even if he vanished into the night sometime, never to return. If he abandoned ShinRa, the programs, would his absence even truly be felt?

Running his hand over the lock on the handle, he finally produced his keys, fitting one into the hole, turning. With a click, he was gained access. Though they could reprogram his card day in and day out, his keys would have to be taken away by force to keep him from certain areas. Genesis' apartment, hollow and covered in a thin layer of dust now, was one of those places.

At times, he felt like he could still see the blood in there.

Swallowing uncomfortably, he pushed the door open, tensing for a moment before finally relaxing. There was no one in there. His senses were just frayed. Taking a deep breath, he closed the door behind him, sagging his full weight against it. Reclining his head, he rested it against that thick wooden barrier, breathing out shakily.

A lone file sat on the immaculate surface of his desk.

No one had keys to his office. As far as Sephiroth understood it, not even the Turks had access, though that very well could have changed considering recent _developments_. Gracefully, he pushed himself away from the door, gliding around his desk, where he sat slowly, unsurely. Carefully, like the file was hundreds of years old, brittle and needing of soft treatment, Sephiroth smoothed it open, staring at the top page.

It was a report on monster activity involving Nibelheim. In the past, there had not been too terribly much, considering the remote location of the village, how it was nuzzled into mako rich mountains. One might have expected at least double the numbers displayed at the top of the page. He traced a black encased finger down it, mako bright eyes reading the lines even in the mostly dark office. There was no need to turn on a light. He did not need it.

There was a sudden spike, near the bottom of the page. The monster incident reports quadrupled. The monsters themselves were reported as being stronger than usual, by a few-fold, and… Sephiroth's eyes widened.

The name, Genesis, stood out bright on the page, as though only that was illuminated. Sephiroth hungrily turned the page, continuing to read. There was only a vague description of someone who might be Genesis, but there were suspicions that he had been sighted in the area of the mako reactor. Sephiroth flipped another page, gaze honing in immediately on a picture paper-clipped into place.

His breath caught in his lungs. Gingerly, Sephiroth lifted the photograph up, staring at it with big, lost green eyes, slits widening, nearly to ovals. Nearly, but not quite. That mansion, that was the one in his dream. There was no doubt about it. There was the evergreen tree, the decrepit cobbled path, the battered double doors.

He knew this place.

"Home."

The word tumbled off his lips before he even registered it, resonating clearly on the silent, still air. That place, it was home. He knew it.

"My mother, Jenova…" Sephiroth pursed his lips, making his voice stop, as just mentally commanding it to had not seemed to work in the least. Sighing, he put the photograph back into place, continuing to flip through. The village, the mansion, the mako reactor, it was all coming back to him.

There was no choice but to go home to Nibelheim.


	7. Chapter VI: Reunion

**Disclaimer: **I do not own CCFF7 or any of that stuff. You know the drill by now.

**Warning:** Darkness. Dark themes, mental instability, graphic violence, tragedy. Be ready for anything?

**Author's Note:** Well, sorry for the long wait. School and life and all of that stuff came in to play. This is the last chapter. There will be an epilogue. Don't bug me for it, I have finals and a grad school application to be working on.

**Music:** the Moon OST, composed by Clint Mansell, and various CCFF7 music.

**F A L L E N**

**Chapter VI: Reunion**

Sephiroth did not care who came with them, or if there was anyone with him at all. This was the end of the line. He could feel it in his heart, how taut the string was pulling him onward to Nibelheim, to Genesis. There was no doubt in his mind: Genesis was there.

It was the perfect trap. He could see the long hours of strategy talks they had had with one another played out in tangible form, set down as a taunt. The steadily decreasing monster counts over the past month or so had been Genesis' doing. The sudden spike had been on purpose. If it was just a gradual rise back up, ShinRa would not have cared. If it was a moderate increase, some of ShinRa Army would have been sent, perhaps one SOLDIER Third Class for good measure.

No, this was planned specifically to lure Sephiroth out of Midgar.

His boots clicked lightly as he walked down the sterile halls of the SOLDIER floor. It felt different, lately. Like he was not welcome. In the shadows, there one second and gone the next, was a Turk. His gaze was too keen to miss it. There were less SOLDIERs. Too many had defected with Genesis.

Taking a shaky breath, Sephiroth paused, closing his eyes for a moment. He counted to three.

When he reopened his eyes they were a cold silver, his face devoid of emotion, pale and smooth. He started walking again, this time going to the little lounge SOLDIERs often met in, with its inset table and large, clear windows overlooking Midgar.

Once upon a time, he had enjoyed sitting there. Sephiroth turned his gaze to the table. It was empty now. Three Army grunts were lined up in front of it, one missing his helmet, a breech in protocol. Zack's voice carried enough for Sephiroth to know he had been talking to the young man, no doubt causing the breech in the first place.

Calmly, Sephiroth approached, standing just a stride away from the Army grunts. They all straightened to attention. He could smell the fear on them. The awe.

He was sick of it.

"So, uh, where are we going?" Zack's voice was bouncy, or at least as much as it had been since he lost Angeal. He was starting to gain his joy back. Sephiroth did not think he could recapture his own.

Cringing, just slightly, Sephiroth turned away from the Army grunts, away from Zack, to hide it. In as level of a voice as he could muster, he forced an answer. "Nibelheim."

Unable to stand there, gawked at by the line of grunts, Sephiroth returned from the way he had come, walking in quicker strides than he usually would. He needed fresh air. He needed space. In Nibelheim, hopefully, he would get enough of both, and perhaps even some of the closure he had been longing for.

0 0 0 0 0

It worked.

Genesis cracked a thin, malicious smile as he stared down into the canyon, faded blue eyes taking in the mountainous terrain. There, in the canyon, was a small group, weaving their way through the hordes of monsters Genesis had _nudged_ into coming out to play.

There, at the head of that group, was Sephiroth. The sunlight played across his shining silver hair, flowing in molten waves behind him. His thick black leather jacket encased his torso, the ends of it hanging long, flapping about his form like a wreath of shadows. He truly was a beautiful creature, as was the gift he bore.

Leaning over the gorge, balanced against a heavy bolder, Genesis watched, his smile only growing by a minute on his sickly face as the group marched closer and closer to Nibelheim, closer and closer to where he would be waiting.

"Infinite in mystery, is the Gift of the Goddess." Genesis moved quickly, booted feet finding easy purchase over the rocks. He had scaled worse in his childhood in Banora, and though the degeneration was taking a heavy toll on him, he still had his raw power about him, keeping him aloft and balanced.

The group rounded a corner, Genesis watching with wide, pleased eyes as the Masamune cracked into the air, the hilt firm in Sephiroth's left hand. With graceful, powerful, controlled movements Sephiroth dispatched the monsters in their path as though they were nothing more than a flock of flies. It was a wonderful sight, seeing him in battle again.

It had been so long. Oh, but it would not be much longer that he had to stay so far away, that he had to stalk through the shadows, scrambling for scraps of information about what was going on. Soon enough, he and Sephiroth would be face to face again. Soon enough, he would understand.

"We seek it thus, and take to the skies." Genesis broke into a short sprint, jumping off the ledge. His one wing, feathers gray now, shot out, catching the wind. With powerful flaps, Genesis carried himself, hurrying not towards the village of Nibelheim, but to the Reactor, where Sephiroth and his little troop were bound to go.

It was almost time.

0 0 0 0 0

The canyon opened up around them, and suddenly a quaint little village came into view. At its middle was a squat water tower, with cottages ringed around it. A faint smile touched Sephiroth's lips, just a tiny upturn at the corner of his lips, almost making him seem feline, if his eyes did not already give him that impression.

This place reminded him of home.

Sephiroth paused, steps faltering as the thought rang through his head. His brows furrowed in, a small crease forming between the silver things. He swallowed, a knot having formed in his throat.

Midgar was supposed to be home. The ShinRa tower was supposed to be home. And yet this, this small village, one he was not sure he had ever seen before, felt like _home_. Not a house, not a temporary living assignment, but a home.

"It has been some time since you have been to your hometown, yes?" Sephiroth paused, glancing slightly back over his shoulder. One of the Army grunts, the one Zack seemed to show favor towards, was from Nibelheim. Sephiroth had always wondered what it would feel like to return to a home. This was as close as he had ever gotten. "How does it feel? I… do not have a hometown of my own, so I would not know."

The Army grunt gave no response, seeming to have been struck by shock. Sephiroth paid it no notice, staring out into the small town with sad eyes.

"What about your parents?" Zack tilted his head to the side, just barely, like a puppy quirks its head to the side inquisitively. Sephiroth could see why Angeal called Zack that. He could also see why Angeal had left ShinRa.

Pivoting, Sephiroth tried not to look so surprised, so melancholy. He must have looked mad. "My mother's name is Jenova. She died shortly after I was born. My father…" A laugh, higher pitched than his amused chuckle, less balanced than it as well, erupted from his lips. He pressed his gloved fingertips to his forehead, trying to suppress the headache he felt coming on. "Why am I talking about this?"

The words were falling through his lips without a filter, without a care. There had to be something in the air. Sephiroth shook his head, trying to write it off. Everyone, especially Zack, was staring at him. Turning, Sephiroth strode off.

"Come on, let's go."

Arrangements had been made for them in the inn at Nibelheim, so they could rest before the long march up to the Reactor, where the real problem no doubt rested.

0 0 0 0 0

The journey from the town of Nibelheim to the Reactor was uneventful, for the most part, though the Army grunts most likely did not believe that. A local girl from town was their guide, and though she appeared entirely incapable of the kind of strenuous activity it took to make such a hike, she made it in better condition than the grunts did.

When they made it to the Reactor, though, that did not matter. The girl and the grunts had to remain outside. There were some things only those in the upper echelon of ShinRa could see.

Sephiroth paused on the bottom tier of the Reactor. There was a problem in it which they had to investigate. ShinRa did not want another Reactor to explode like the one in Gongaga had. It made for a messy clean up, not to mention a large number of people opposed to the company, and with good reason.

It felt like there was something more to this.

A soft whisper touched his ear, Sephiroth turning his head, looking to that side. No one was there. Zack was already heading up the stairs. The others were still waiting outside. Sephiroth frowned, looking upward.

It started up the stairs, boots clicking on the corrugated metal. His gaze followed the path up, until he was almost at the top. He could hear Zack fiddling with the door ahead, could hear how it would not open. Sephiroth glanced up, his eyes raking over the cold metal door. Above the door was a name.

JENOVA.

That was his mother's name.

Sephiroth paused, staring at it for a moment, before he turned, striding down towards the bottom level.

There were containers, so many containers with glass windows on the front of them, all lined up in this Reactor, not the usual layout. Each of those containers had a tube, leading up to the top of the chamber, where that door was. Each container was connected to the chamber beyond that door.

That door bore his mother's name.

Sephiroth approached one container. There was a small red light at it. It was not making the same mechanical siphoning sound as the others.

"This is the cause of the malfunction. This section is broken." Sephiroth's voice sound detached, even in his own mind. He stared at the container, at the little glass window. It was glowing blue green like mako. He could hear Zack coming back down the stairs.

Sephiroth could not move away from the container. Not now, not yet. "Zack, go seal the valve." His gaze traced up the metal door at the front, the seams marking a sort of door into the container. There was no sign of damage on it. "Why did it break?"

As Zack sealed the valve, cutting off the mako flow to the somehow defective container, Sephiroth moved to another, gazing into it.

There was a body suspended inside.

It looked only vaguely human, if only in the face, though that was even a stretch of the imagination. Everything else was so mutated, so malformed, that it was barely recognizable. It looked like… a monster. The containers were full of monsters.

ShinRa was manufacturing monsters.

Sephiroth stepped aside, looking down. It was all starting to make sense.

Zack stepped up to the container, looking inside. He gasped. "What is that…?"

"You average SOLDIER members are mako-infused humans." Sephiroth felt the words coming again, without filter, drawn out of him against his will, though they came with no resistance. He was forgetting how to resist. Even Zack turning to look at him, worried, distraught, did not stop him. "You're enhanced, but you're still human."

Those creatures were not human. ShinRa was making monsters. Like Angeal said, so many times. It had hurt, hearing Angeal call himself a monster in those last fleeting months, but now he could see it.

"But then, what are those things?" Sephiroth spoke the question flatly, staring off beyond Zack. At the same time, he could feel himself asking, _But then, what am I?_ "Their mako energy levels are exponentially higher than yours." _Like mine_.

"Are they… monsters?"

The words stung.

Though Sephiroth thought them, knew those words to be true, they stung.

Turning, Sephiroth walked away, trying to calm the whirlwind of his reeling thoughts. He had to get himself back in control. He had to concentrate. He had to complete this mission.

There was something watching him. He could feel it. Sephiroth's eyes narrowed. He stopped midstride, before the stairs. There was a thin thread trying to pull him upwards, back towards that door. He resisted it.

"Yes. The ShinRa scientist Hojo was the one who created them." Sephiroth half-turned, watching Zack. It was the only way to reign in his thoughts at this point, though it only reminded him of Angeal's decline and fall. "Abominations spawned by mako energy… That's what monsters are."

"You said 'average' member. What about you?"

A cord snapped.

Sephiroth's eyes widened. He tried to take a breath, but it caught in his lungs. He staggered backwards, raising his hands to his head. It pulsed with pain. The whisper was back, more like a muffled scream, piercing his sensitive ears.

Zack ran for him, putting a hand on his arm. "Hey! Sephiroth!"

He could not do it. The contact, it was too much, jilting his mako enhanced nerves, setting them afire.

Sephiroth threw Zack away. He heard him stumble, jump off the landing. He did not care, stumbling forward, towards the valves controlling the containers.

"Could it be… that I… was created in the same way?" Sephiroth looked down at his hands, and instead he saw the mutated and disfigured monster, floating in the vat of mako. It had grey skin and almost silver hair, if what was on its head could even be considered hair. Its eyes were a bright mako green, glowing like his.

He put his hands on the valve, turning. "Am I the same as these monsters?"

The chamber grew deathly calm, deathly still, as the siphoning all around them silenced.

"I knew, ever since I was a child… I was not like the others. I knew mine was a special existence." He never had peers in the tower. Hojo always kept him separated. Under watch. He was a lab specimen. Until Angeal and Genesis came, he was alone. And now they were gone.

With a hiss, the broken container's door swung open, mako liquid dispersing as superhot vapor. The body of the monster within flopped down on the door, laying prone on that cold metal surface. He stared at it, so different from him, but _feeling_ so utterly alike. "But this… This was not what I meant. Am I… a human being?"

"No such luck." A smooth, clear, rolling voice cut through the tension, Sephiroth's heart skipping a beat. He knew that voice. "You are a monster."

The air rippled, Sephiroth turning, hopeful. He raised his hand, a shield shimmering around him as a fireball plunged into it, dispersing. Zack did not have the same luck, crying out, though Sephiroth did not look to see if he was okay.

He could not move. He could not breathe. He stood still, staring at the empty air where the fireball came from, even as he heard the flutter of a single black wing behind him, and heard Genesis' booted feet set lightly down on the stairs.

"Sephiroth, you were the greatest monster created by the Jenova Project."

"Genesis! So you are alive!" Zack's voice was strained, words grunted out. He sounded like he was in pain. Sephiroth tried to feel something, anything, and could not.

Genesis, the one person he actually cared about, the one person he would ever say he actually loved, was calling him a monster.

"I suppose you am, if you can call _this_ living."

Their banter meant nothing.

"What is the Jenova Project?" Again, the name of his mother. Sephiroth held his breath, waiting for the answer. It could be the one he was searching for, all of those long hours shut in ShinRa's library.

"The Jenova Project was the term used for all experiments relating to the use of Jenova's cells."

Sephiroth looked away from Genesis, unable to stare at him any longer. It was not the Genesis he remembered. His fiery red hair was faded, streaked with grey. His skin was an unhealthy shade of grey and lined with veins. The decay about him was a disturbing sight.

"My mother's… cells?" It did not make sense. It was slow to filter through his mind, the words not taking. ShinRa had done many strange things in its laboratories, but using a woman's cells?

"Poor little Sephiroth." Genesis' voice cooed, purring out each syllable as though it was some delicious morsel to be savored. Sephiroth had missed his voice. "You've never actually met your mother. You've only been told her name, no?"

His eyes would not focus. The containers blurred, becoming streaks of grey against the dark red the other metal took on in the artificial lighting. He tried keeping his face calm, collected, though his eyes were tumultuous, showing the battle raging within.

"I don't know what images you've conjured up in your head, but—"

"Genesis! No!"

"Jenova was excavated from a 2000-year-old rock layer." Genesis' tone was sharp, demanding attention, cutting off any further appeal Zack might have had.

He needed to hear this.

"She's a monster."

Sephiroth took a step back, a short gasp escaping from his lips. He looked wildly around, to the creature in the container, to the others lined up like rows, to the door.

"Sephiroth… I need your help." The sharpness was gone. Genesis sounded warm again, almost comforting. It did not touch him this time. "My body's continuing to degrade."

It did not touch him. He could barely hear it.

"SOLDIER First Class Sephiroth!"

He stood at attention, body doing so out of reflex. There was no conviction to it, not anymore.

"Jenova Project G gave birth to Angeal, and monsters like myself. Jenova Project S—"

"S…?"

"—used the remains of countless failed experiments to create a perfect monster."

Sephiroth shook his head, silvery bangs falling over his eyes. He stared at the ground, eyes open to mere slits, though they shined like mercury, bright, predatory. His voice trembled, despite himself. "What do you want of me?"

"Your traits cannot be copied unto others. Your genes cannot be diffused. Therefore, your body cannot degrade." Genesis paused dramatically. He had always been too verbose. "Share your cells with me. _My friend, your desire, Is the bringer of life, the Gift of the Goddess_."

Loveless.

He was only a bunch of cells to Genesis. He was only another hand in his play. In the end, they were all loveless.

Genesis held out an apple, a blue apple. Sephiroth recognized it. Banora had burned. Somehow, Genesis still had one of those cursed apples. Sephiroth turned, facing him fully.

He looked up to the door. His mother was up there, beyond that door. He could feel her. She was waiting for him to save her.

It was over.

"Whether your words are lies created to deceive me or the truth that I have sought all my life… it makes no difference." Sephiroth knocked the apple from Genesis' hand. His final words were firm. He was certain now. "You will rot."

Sephiroth turned.

"I see. Perfect monster, indeed."

There was nothing else to say. Sephiroth strode from the Reactor. He did not know where he was going. It was not back to the inn. He let his feet guide him. The string tugging him along seemed to know what was best, and he followed it.

0 0 0 0 0

He knew Sephiroth would be back at the Reactor.

What he did not know, is that it would not truly be Sephiroth.

Nibelheim was in flames.

It was like watching Banora burn all over again, watching the trees ignite one by one, leaves withering, falling to ash, apples eaten by the tongues of flame rather than people, as was intended. What he knew was gone, destroyed, never to come back.

Out of the flames, the smoke and raining ash, emerged Sephiroth, destroyed and rebuilt from the wreckage, unrecognizable except by appearance.

That was not the man he had lain with under the Banora sky. That was not the man he had fought with in the training room countless times.

That was not the man who had said, "I love you."

It was over.

His body felt tired. It was degrading. It felt like there was nothing he could do to stop that now. Not without Sephiroth.

It was too hard to watch as Sephiroth stalked into that inner sanctum of the Reactor and greeted his mother.

He had made this happen.

It was too difficult to watch as Zack ran in, Angeal's sword bared, ready for the combat that Angeal refused to put it through.

Every time Sephiroth was hit, he felt the pain, even as it did not register on Sephiroth's face.

Seeing Angeal's sword run through Sephiroth, that was the end.

Genesis turned away. He could not watch.

He had made this happen.

Sephiroth was gone.

Genesis flew away.


End file.
